


Courting Confusion

by seraphenanox



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphenanox/pseuds/seraphenanox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to figure out Tony Stark on a normal day is hard....this is anything but normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courting Confusion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catZY](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catZY/gifts).



 

It took Tony Stark a minute to process amidst the analysis of the composition of the cup in his hands and a semi reasonable analysis of the probable atomic and biological identity of the dark stains on the inside.  He blinked at the way they clung to the edges but not the bottom.  The bottom and he blinked again. His coffee cup was empty.    His thoughts tripped over in the mathematical calculations of force and velocity to get…

Coffee, he needed coffee.

Stumbling to his feet Tony bounced off the door frame, and then to spots worn sooth and glossy along the hall. He didn’t stop, momentum had to be maintained. He never really noticed the way the elevator door was open and waiting.  Nor did he comprehend how it closed before he ricocheted back out again.

His feet tried to tangle when he had to turn around to exit, but there was another wall. 

“I’m just saying.” 

Tony blinked at the words echoing out of the common room kitchen.  It was late, wasn’t it?  Too late for a geriatric super soldier-

“Saying what Buck?  It’s been six months since you’ve been cleared.”

Way past both super soldiers’ bed times? 

The thought of asking Friday for the time entered the queue after what was he doing…

“I just want to be the one courted this time ya know?”

Now even on a good day Tony barely registered subtext and emotions were things that made him squirm.  But floating haze where sleep isn’t to be thought of and caffeine only dreamed about he could register it, parse it and get it.  There were none of his hang ups to get in the way.  Even if there were this was James.

Tony shouldn’t be hearing that jumble of emotions from the man.  He never wanted James to sound like that again.  He never wanted James of all people to have that mix of bitter loneliness and longing.

Courted, he lifted the coffee cup to his lips not even noticing that nothing past his lips.  To woo, offer homage; to pursue and charm.  To serenade…

He blinked and the cup slipped from his fingers, forgotten. 

Courted, James wanted to be courted?  Tony could do that. He wanted to do that.

“Tony?”  The voices were louder now.  Hands were on his arms and at his back. 

“Jesus Christ you idiot.” Strong hands lifted him up.  “Time for bed genius.”  The hands smelled like leather and metal so Tony didn’t fight, just relaxed as he was shifted.  So wrapped up in possibilities and plan he drifted off before they reached his room.

**

He was a former Army Sniper.  He faced down Hydra in the fields of Europe. He had survived seventy years as a brainwashed assassin. And he was completely and totally hesitating outside his own god damned living room.

He wasn’t afraid damn it. It was just caution that made him scan each room he entered.  A part of his mind, the one where the Winter Soldier training hid noted the clear sight line and the unblocked path ways. 

This wasn’t an op he had too jerk himself out of that mind set.  It wasn’t.  James was more interested in what was not there than what was.

No one lurked in doorways.  No one sat grinning like a loon on his couch.  Nothing had been left on the table and there was nothing waiting to ambush him.

He sat at the kitchen table and rested his head on his crossed arms.

It was ridiculous. 

He was losing his ever loving mind. 

And he knew where to fix the blame for all of it.

Anthony Edward Stark, Iron Man, that genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist who had apparently lost his ever loving mind and decided to take James along for the ride.  

James stifled an exasperated groan into his crossed arms.  The man was indescribable; annoying, brilliant, charming when he wanted to be, fascinating and James was hopelessly in love with him.

Besides Steve, Tony had been there for James the most.  He had been the only one to never fear the Winter Soldier programing.  There had never been any hesitation to include James in anything.

Tony had invited James to come down to the shop.  He never looked at the ex-assassin like he was seeing something than another human being who’d gotten a bad deal.

On James’s good days Tony would be a complicated mess of chaos and confusion.  He would challenge and push James to be more than an ex-soldier. 

On bad days Tony’s work shop was a safe haven of soft music and distractions.

On really bad days Tony was the anchor.  He was that one point that had no expectations other than to see James well.  He never judged either.  Tony never commented when James would sit on the couch in the shop and stare for hours.  He never said a word when nightmares made James scream awake on that couch.  But there was comfort in the gentle touch and the soothing words.

Trying to say ‘Thank you’ or ‘I’m Sorry’ was futile. The words were always brushed way with an enthusiastic invitation to see the newest things or some upgrade that James had to have RIGHT NOW.

Every day James fell in love just a little bit more with the infuriatingly exasperating and perpetually sleep deprived engineer.  And Tony being Tony never noticed.

James never said anything.  He never even tried.  He remembered how good he had once been with the ladies, and even a few men with his devilish charm and his flirting.  But this was different. 

No amount of flirting would create something that wasn’t there.  No amount of charm would spark interest where there had adamantly been nothing before.  You could only stare at something in front of your face so many times before it was obvious.  Tony wasn’t interested.

And it was very apparent.   The notorious playboy who flirted and teased almost anyone never seemed to have anything for James.  Not a sly smile or ever that sexy little smirk, those were never directed his way.  He got the hesitant ones, the tentative looks making sure James was okay.

Those facts and conclusions made Tony’s recent behavior all the more exasperating.  Everyone living in the Tower knew Tony loved a good prank.   A week of downtime was enough to ensure that at least one prank war would erupt any minute and Tony would be at the vanguard.

Sometimes they were juvenile and sometimes they bordered on offensive.  But Tony always skirted that line. James had always believed that Tony would never cross over into hurtful and never had they been malicious or cruel.

Well, he had until now.

The first things weren’t a big deal.  Little kindnesses popping up around James; a snack left waiting for him when he came back from working out or a bottle of juice lurking around after his run.  No cards, or words to indicate who they were from, but left in a way that it couldn’t have been anyone else.

If that had been the end of it, no harm no foul.  James carded his fingers through his hair and yanking just a little to pull himself out the bleak bitterness.

There was no escaping it.  The heady scents of flowers filled his nose.  The lavender relaxed the tense shoulders, even as the vivid colors of the Sweet Williams and the crocuses pulled his mood lower. Those had been the warning that this wasn’t what James had thought.  Hundreds upon hundreds of flowers delivered in single vases or in giant bouquets.

Which led directly to the second person involved in James’s decent into madness: Steve.

Steve had been there the first day of the Flower Bombardment.  James hadn’t been bothered.  Steve was usually around in the mornings waiting for James to get up and dress for their run. No problem.  But James had looked up from the table full of mismatched vases and the field of flowers to see the blond idiot leaning back against the wall.  The asshole had just taken another long drink of his glass of milk like nothing was wrong and butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.  James hadn’t been fooled.  He’d seen that gleam in those blue eyes and that hint of a smirk that no one else caught. 

Then it had just gotten worse.

His hands reached for the archivist box on the table.  His fingers itched to remove the glass and just touch the thick cream paper.  Of course Tony wouldn’t stop with flowers.  His flesh fingers traced over the flowing handwriting.  James wanted to feel the press the pen nib left in its wake.  Handwritten and gorgeous the Italian poem a cross between artistry and scholarship .

But Stevie’s laughter still ran in his ears.  It was not mocking, not maliciously and James’s cheeks burned even at the memory.  A part of him wanted to know if Tony had understood just what was written here.  Was the man’s Italian good enough for the archaic words and meaning to really register or did he just find a section that looked good and copy it? 

He sighed and banged his head against the table.  Now Captain Pain in the Ass had made it his mission to show up whenever he could, like James was so new feature there for the assholes enjoyment.  And when James would snarl and growl at him for being so perky and cheerful about this…thing the lunk had just turned those innocent baby blues on him and fired up the earnest expression.  Please, James hadn’t fallen for that since they were eight years old.  Laying his head on his right arm he traced invisible lines on the wood top.  Why wasn’t Stevie on his side anyway?

Not like the punk would tell him.  Whenever James groused about pranks that weren’t funny Steve would get that look of pure Brooklynn stubbornness and leave.  And he was never quiet about the inventive cursing and grumbling about ‘god damned idiots’ and ‘stubborn assholes’. But it was one way to get the man out of the room.

Something bumped against his arm and James just raised his head enough to look.  Two whirling tumblers bounced off his arm and continued the other direction.  He didn’t want to smile, but these brilliant creations always pulled it out of him. Stark is hailed for his robots, but how on earth he’d managed these James can’t figure out.  Two tumble and cartwheel around and over each other.  Two more danced and circled each other spinning out only so far before coming back unerringly.  And the fifth, James looks up with a sigh. That one tumbled around the arms of light fixture.  He _still_ hadn’t figured out how to get it down.  Powered by nothing more than cogs and springs James would watch the five for hours. His metal hand clenched and unfurled with every rotation.

Over the click of the cogs he could hear a soft muffled melody.  Flushing a little James refused to be ashamed but he couldn’t muster the energy even for mild embarrassment.  He did however get up and open the closet door.  A little robot trundled out with a florid bow.

From the tip of the feathered hat down to the wheels the exquisitely crafted troubadour was a playful mix of function and whimsy.  Only about two feet tall, the medieval musician sang and played.  Not high pitched either, the sweet harmony of the tenor voice and the surprisingly deep tones of the lute blended together perfectly.   The craftsmanship is everything one would expect from Stark too.  From the top of the drooping feather in a floppy hat to the flare and fit of the wheel covers it is the perfect stylization of a medieval troubadour.

How Stark had even found such a collection of music James didn’t want to know.  This wasn't anything like what James would hear blaring out of the workshop or things he would rarely hear Tony humming or singing under his breath.  It also wasn't anything James had heard of either.  But in the moods and melodies he could hear the strands that still faintly echoed in the modern world.

The first time he heard those songs James just lost himself in the Old German, Italian and French.  Well until he was pulled out of it by the sound of his best friend choking on his own spit.   James was pointedly not mentally translating what he was hearing ever again.

Now James wasn’t sure who he wanted to punch more: The super soldier or the engineer.  He’s done. It wasn’t funny, none of it.  He can’t figure out what Stark’s game was.  James couldn’t wrap his head around what the hell the “genius” was thinking but he’s done.  

“Friday, where is Mr. Stark?” he ground out. 

“Boss has just returned to the tower Sergeant Barnes.”

He got to the elevator finger on the button and…

The alarm to assemble sounded.

“Aces, Absolutely aces.” He snarled through clenched teeth.

**

The thing whirled and the Soldier couldn’t react fast enough.  A broad tail slammed into him throwing him back.  Turning it into a roll he found a little bit of breathing room in a narrow alley between two warehouses. 

“Watch the tail.” He commented more to show he’s okay than any report.

He watched the arrow arc from above him a slim line of silver that lands with a crackled of electricity and then…nothing.

“Shielded against EMPs.” Hawkeye reported.  James heard the frustration in the words.  The sass and snark had been drained out of them all the first hour. 

One creature and they couldn’t even make a dent.

A cone of flame was the things response to Hawkeye’s attempt.

“Holy Shit!” And James can’t tell if the archer is excited or surprised. 

And of course this thing had fire. 

“Dragons breathe fire.”  Spiderman’s quip grated just a little.  The young superhero’s webs wouldn’t stick and won’t hold, so the kid’s on aerial. 

From the triangular head with whirling eyes to the spade of the base of the mobile tail it had to be twenty feet long.  The silver metal skin gleamed in the fading light.  Fully articulated it could grasp things in the front claws while standing on the back ones.  On all fours it stood nearly ten feet to the shoulders. 

“Doom’s branching out.” James grunted at Steve’s comment. 

“Not a Doombot.” Iron Man snarled. One of James’s eyebrow rose.  

“It’s a robot. Doom is the villain for robots.” Hawkeye snapped back launching another arrow.  Some sort of adhesive, and just as ineffective.

“Shame we need to put it down though.”  The Captain sighed.  “It’s beautiful.”

Every inch was a work of art and just the thought of destroying such a finely crafted thing…

His eyes narrowed. 

“Keep it distracted, and we won’t have to.”  Stark groused clearly offended by something. 

“How’s the scanning coming Stark.”

“Peachy Captain, just peachy.”

“Hawkeye can you see any sort of control mechanisms or transmitter?”

Widow was right. No collar, nor antenna, nothing to indicate how this thing was controlled.  Granted the scale patterns hammered into the metal plus the iridescent blue sheen weren’t helping.

“Not seeing anything.” The archer reported.

There was just something about it that nipped at his memory.

“Maybe we should call a Code Green.”  Cap mused slinging the shield just to watch it bounce back at him.  “This is a hell of nut.  The Big Guy can…”

“No mangling. I almost have it.”

Stark was being awfully particular about just how this...

The suspicion slammed into James and he automatically looked to where Iron Man was circling trying to get a fix on the …frequency or programing.  He couldn’t quite remember the genius had been talking too fast and technical.

The soldier felt his back molars grinding.  No, Stark wouldn’t… Heaving a sigh James pulled himself up to the nearest roof.

“Whatcha doing Robocop?” Of course Hawkeye would see him. 

“Needed a better look.”  He said crouching down in the shadows.  When they had first arrived the dragon had been happily munching on a fork lift while the tail battered the closets buildings.  He remembered being stunned by all silver blue the eyes whirling gold.  Well the eyes were red now, had been since the first arrow.

Shoot at it and you had its undivided attention.  Hostility met with hostility.  But those eyes were always moving, searching. 

He took a step out of the shadows getting into the line of sight.

“Buck?”

“Shuddup Steve.” He whispered into the comm.  Keeping his movements slow and steady he advanced again and checked the eyes, back to orange. “Hey there gorgeous.”  He crooned softly.

“Stark, any luck?” Steve's voice a little too shrill and tight.

“Frequency is still jammed.  Programing glitch.” But there is no urgency in his voice, just wonder.  Yeah James got it now.

The dragon trilled eyes shifting back to gold.  A few steps more.

“Buck.” The warning hiss of a Captain at the end of his rope.

“Relax punk. I’ve got this.” One more step and he could touch that massive head.  Reaching out he tried really hard not to think about what those massive jaws could do. The head butted against him nearly knocking James to his knees. The eyes half closed and it purred.

“Stark.”  He growled but never stopped petting.  “Come get your pet.”

**

“Out punk.” James said pushing his way into the workshop.  The blonde’s head snapped his way and James just rolled his eyes.  Once the shooting had stopped and James's attention hadn't, the dragon had been very happy to follow James anywhere. That included back to the tower and being shut off.   The former assassin had deemed it safe to grab a shower before confronting their resident mad scientist.  Tony wasn't going anywhere, not with THAT gleam in the Captain's eyes.  Steve’s lecture and disappointed stare would keep Stark just where James wanted him.

“What?”

He didn’t give Steve a chance to finish.  “Out I’ve got this.”

The blue eyes narrowed.  But James just stared back until the eyes widened and the eyebrows inched up the blonde’s forehead.

“Fine.” Steve huffed turning towards the door. “We’ll finish this discussion tomorrow.”

“You know that really creepy. I’m mean thanks for the save and all that, but-“ Tony babbled, a babbling Tony was a guilty Tony, a very, very guilty Tony.

“What is wrong with you?”  He snapped. All the pent up frustration poured.  He had tried, tried to figure it out and tried to see it from Tony’s side, but he couldn’t.  “Someone could have been killed tonight.  Was this just another joke?”

James spun to face the genius his chest heaving…and froze. Tony pushed back, he defended himself with snark and barbs. There was no smirk on the man’s lips, his face was ghost pale and those brown eyes were dark and shuttered.

“Thank you Sergeant Barnes.” The words clipped, formal.  “If you don’t mind I have work to do.” The man turned back to his work and James was left looking at the curve of the man’s spine.  The hunched shoulders and tight muscles radiating defeat and…something that took him a minute to recognize.

And then he understood what the genius had been trying to say, but couldn’t.  All the pieces slid together added by that reaction and the other man's expression.

“Why?” he asked softly. He needed to make sure, to have the other man say it.   

“Why what?” And James flinched himself from the pain in those words. “I lost control of it, the program got into a loop-“

“Not that. Everything, the food, the flowers, the tumblers and the robot. Why?”

Half a shrug.  He felt Tony tense when he placed a hand on the engineer’s shoulder.

In conversations about emotions or anything important he couldn't listen to Tony's words. James had learned that really quick.  Words lied, they deflected and they misled. It was body language and his eyes that would give him the real answers, the honest ones.

The tension under his hand tightened.

“Tony.” James released the other man’s shoulder and spins the chair around.  Looking in those dark eyes James realized that maybe just maybe this wasn’t as hopeless as he thought.  “Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

The eyes flickered up searching his face and James let him see it all.  The pensive look faded and a slight smile flickered around those mobile lips.

“Yes.” The one strangled words was all the normally verbose man managed. 

Pulling him up out of the chair James returns that soft smile.  “I did like the dragon.” He said as they walk towards the door. 

“You did?” Animation returned to his features.

“Can you make another one?”  James asked with a slight smirk.  “Just a smaller one?”

The engineer cocks an eyebrow.  “Sure…”

The elevator doors close on James’s evil, evil smile.  “Perfect.”

 

 

**Epilogue (end credit scene) – One week later.**

 

“God damn it Buck!”

James leaned against the wall with a feral smile. The sounds filling the gym were better than all the rock Tony had been trying to get him interested in.  He could listen to the scrabble of claws and the snap of teeth all day long.

“It’s a dragon, Punk.  Captain America should be able to stop it.”  He shouted grinning like an idiot.

Tony leaned into his shoulder his eyes narrowing.  “Did we just sacrifice Captain America to a dragon?”

Leaning in James stole a quick kiss.  “Nope.  Dragons wouldn’t take him.”

The sound of their laughter echoed throughout the building. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So first time doing a fic exchange hope they enjoy it. I really did try for the word limit, but...yeah. Hope I did the prompt justice.


End file.
